A (Two-Way) Road Paved With Jealousy
by elleisforlovee
Summary: During the annual Servant's Ball, Sybil sees Tom interacting with a group of her fellow nurses and begins to empathize with his earlier comments on her work with the army officers.


**A/N****:** This is my holiday gift for **nita100**! Enjoy, love! I hope it's what you wanted! And if not, I may write that other prompt you mentioned sometime in the near future...

Everyone is going to have to forgive me. It has literally been years since I've written something canon compliant. This could technically take place in my _On The Other Side_ universe, though it could just as easily stand alone.

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***Prompt: A situation where Sybil is jealous of her fellow nurses being attracted to Tom - her version of Tom's "randy officers" comment

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Just hours before the annual Servant's Ball and all of Downton was decorated in Christmas cheer. Earlier in the week it was announced that in addition to the Crawley family's usual guests, the current nurses and officers of their convalescent home would also be invited. This made for an even warmer atmosphere as the fire crackled and waiters from London skirted around each group all to the soft holiday tune played by the nearby orchestra. For a moment everyone was made to forget that just miles away a war raged on.

In the middle of it all Sybil forewent a glass of wine to sip at a mug of mulled cider. To her left and right stood her sisters and other women like them, all in heels that had her feeling inadequate in areas other than her height. Her own flats were last season's design and while she bought them for the sake of comfort she often wondered if it was time to give up such lofty ideals as she grew older.

Through it all, with every gracious acceptance of hors d'oeuvres and smile at new friends, Sybil found herself searching for him. Originally she was the one who invited him but based on how easy it was for him to decline, Sybil began to wonder if he'd been notified of the gathering prior to her arrival into the garage several mornings ago. Easily he rejected the invitation by explaining that while yes, it was a party meant to honor the help, it was not a party without other guests, some of which needed rides to and from their homes in the village.

Tom was not condescending, he just found himself so constantly amused by how little she sometimes knew; the things he thought of were usually of little important to Sybil. She was smart but in ways she couldn't quite help, she lacked worldly knowledge. Tom often wondered if this is why she was friends with him; maybe no one had explained to her just how dangerous their relationship could be. Or maybe she knew and was disregarding those claims, using her perceived ignorance to her advantage if it at least gave them more moments alone.

A full hour had passed since her own arrival, meaning the party had been going on for quite some time. Still her eyes scanned the room and when she excused herself to freshen up, she found herself slowly walking the back hallways, wondering if he'd come up from the servant's quarters after his last trip of the night. Even if he did have to work, Sybil hoped he'd make time for this but all too quickly she hated how fanciful she seemed; Tom had once asked her to make time for him and she still had yet to give him a complete answer. Maybe this was his revenge: making her wait for something far simpler than the answer to a marriage proposal.

When she arrived back in the grand hall it was easily noted that more guests had arrived. This both thrilled and saddened Sybil. She hoped Tom was one of them but found that through the crowds of people it was becoming more difficult to decipher him from any of the other men wearing white collared shirts. The thing that eventually had Sybil's eyes narrowing was a loud laugh. For any other patron it would have gone unnoticed but Sybil observed that it was followed by several other giggles, all of them female and belonging to the group of nurses standing around Tom. Nothing at this party had made her laugh in that way and she doubted that would change, especially if Tom were preoccupied in this way for the remainder of the evening.

Originally Sybil remained still with her feet firmly planted so she could just barely lean back and catch a better glimpse of him. At one point Tom saw her too because his face grew serious before returning to his audience and resuming his act of entertaining. It was an act too. For as hurt as Sybil became, when she was brave enough to glance to him again, she found it was no longer his lips that moved. Instead, everyone around him was made to come alive, leaving him to slump back and listen. In fact, when Sybil looked at Tom, she found he was gathering the courage to do the same. All she could manage was a sympathetic smile before disappearing behind a group of army officers.

With her gone Tom perked his head up. She thought this was what he wanted, but instead it had him concerned. His posture straightened and his neck craned to get a better view of her. In contrast to his previous disposition, Tom had no stories to share or jokes to tell. He wanted nothing more than to have her in his sight, or better yet, in his grasp as many officers now did with nurses or housemaids. Surely if the two were meant to have some time to themselves, tonight would be the appropriate host. As Tom continued to seek her out, he wondered why it was that this wasn't so painfully clear before. Or rather, why he'd allowed his own stubbornness to distract him from her especially when her work at the hospital made their meetings less frequent.

"Sybil!" It finally came, her name falling so beautifully off his lips, crashing down as he pulled her body toward him. His grip on her wrist was a tight one but as Sybil's eyes moved to his mouth, her breath hitched in silent surrender to him.

"Lady Sybil," she finally managed in correction.

Tom nodded but did not let go of her arm. "Lady Sybil," he agreed. He was breathless too.

"Are you going to introduce me to your friends?"

"Friends?" Tom could barely utter the word it sounded so foreign. He tried again. "Friends? What friends?" Somewhat frantically he turned to the space Sybil's glance was glued on. There the same group of nurses stood sipping at wine glasses. "I don't even know their names," he admitted.

Sybil smirked. "The blonde is Catherine. The shorter brunette is Alice and the taller one is—"

Tom shook his head. "I really don't care..."

"It seemed like you cared."

"So you were watching me?"

Sybil quickly shook her head. "I didn't need to watch. Anyone could hear with how obvious those women were being."

"Obvious?"

"In their affection for you. You'd best get back to them. No sense wasting time with me." She began to walk away again, but as usual she couldn't get too far without feeling a pull back in his direction. Actually, her own feet slowed, barely leaving the floor below in preparation for their inevitable reunion.

"Wasting time?" Tom asked suspiciously. "When have I ever wasted my time on you, m'lady?" He half-expected her to correct him but her mouth was motionless. In response, Tom sighed. "I'd hardly consider affection and esteem to be equal emotions. They merely laughed at something I said."

"Well was it funny?"

Tom paused. "I'm not quite sure. Does it matter?"

"You have made me laugh before," Sybil pointed out in a rather matter of fact way.

Tom's eyes narrowed. The more he was allowed to put all of this together the more offended he was. But then his mind took a sharp turn, creating amusement above all else. "Are you jealous?"

Sybil shook her head. "What is there to be jealous of?"

Tom crossed his arms over his chest and leaned in. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

Sybil mimicked him, resting all of her weight on a single hip. "I really have no idea what you're talking about."

"Do you think I like those women?"

"I don't think it matters what I think…"

"No, it does," Tom assured. "Actually, it matters a great deal to me."

"All of them? Is that even possible?"

Tom smirked. He was flattered by Sybil's jealousy and he played this game with her only because he knew he'd never take advantage of her feelings in the way he sometimes felt he had the right to. Beyond that she was still his friend and regardless of their romantic feelings, he would forever find her honesty to be endearing. "Fine. One of them. The blonde…"

"Catherine," Sybil reminded. "Do you fancy her?"

By now Tom's smirk had turned to a widespread cocky grin. "Who wants to know?"

"I do. As a friend," Sybil added.

"Then no. I do not fancy her. I don't like blondes and I already told you that I didn't know her name."

"Yes and now you do so maybe you should go talk to her."

Tom looked over his shoulder then back to Sybil. "Do you want me to leave? Is that it?" Sybil said nothing and still Tom remained. "You invited me, Sybil…"

"No, my mother and father invited you. They invited everyone."

"So really I'm no one special," Tom said, continuing what he knew to be contrary to Sybil's original thought pattern. She was not disregarding him, she was disregarding her own feelings.

"You're…" Tom waited. Sybil swallowed before continuing. "Why did you come then?"

"To see you."

"Well you've seen me now."

"Why did you deliver the invitation if you didn't want me here?"

"I never said I didn't want you here." For as honest as Sybil's words were, they fell ever so gently from her lips. Her tone was pointed but in a way that had Tom's heart quickening the longer the two stared at one another in bated silence.

"Your actions tell me otherwise, Sybil."

Sybil's eyes slowly shut. "You're...that's…" He sounds genuinely hurt and Sybil was so ashamed she could barely hold her breath long enough to articulate a coherent thought.

Tom chuckled. "You can't have it both ways. You can't get mad at me for making a comment about these officers and then think it's alright when you do the same—"

"Do the same?"

"You're jealous of the nurses, Sybil. It's alright…"

Sybil's fists balled at her sides. Only Tom was capable of bringing this side out of her. Oddly he was the only one who had ever encouraged her to fight back, even when he was on the receiving end of her passion. "I haven't made any snide comments...certainly nothing even resembling your remarks from the other night. So I'm most definitely not jealous!"

"It's okay. I was jealous too," he finally admitted.

His honesty Sybil mentally taking a step back. She needed to breathe but when she existed under his intense gaze, she felt as if her ability to do so was restricted. "A lady has no need for jealousy," she stated quite calmly. Tom smirked when he saw her point her nose upward, a clear sign that this belief belonged to the eldest Crawley daughter and were merely passed to her younger sister in possible jest. Tom was finding that even Mary had accepted Sybil's unlikely nature. Someday he hoped she'd accept other things about her, like her choices in marriage and family and profession, things that would possibly take her away from this place.

"What is it then? Do you not like them?"

"The nurses? They're fine nurses. They all do a wonderful job. I have nothing against those women."

"And if I did fancy them? Would you still like them then?"

"I suppose I'd have to. We're friends, after all. I'd just…" Sybil inhaled heavily. "I'd just want you to be happy."

"And if I'm not?"

Sybil's forehead creased. "Then I'd hope you find a way to fix things. Alter your life so—"

Tom leaned in again. The grip he once had on Sybil's wrist tightened elsewhere, this time on her hip as couples danced mindlessly around them. "I've apologize for my comment the other day. I told you I was sorry and now I've come to this party for you—"

Sybil looked up. Her eyes met his with such disdain. "For me?"

"Do you think this is pleasant for me? I am trying here, Sybil, but—"

"It looked as if you were enjoying yourself," Sybil said, nodding to the empty space where Tom once stood with her fellow nurses.

"I may have apologized for my comment but I still feel what I felt—"

"You belittled my work," she reminded in haste like a child with the urge to get the last word into an argument.

"That's what I was apologizing for," Tom said, almost in agreement. "But the rest of it? You don't see it, Sybil. You're far too kind to notice how they look at you—"

"I do see…" she whispered, now with eyes that raked over the threads in the Donegal carpet below. "But it doesn't matter."

"It does. It matters to me. I can't ignore it. It's not okay—"

"Because they're below me?"

"No, because they don't know you!" Tom corrected innocently. He spoke as if he were baffled by how unaware she was of her own worth. "They don't even understand what they think they're appreciating!"

"It…"

Tom's eyes widened in anticipation. He picked his head up as well. "What?"

"Nothing," Sybil disregarded. "It's nothing. I should—"

"Sybil, you wanted me to come and now I've come. Do you...can we...would you like to dance?" Tom forced a smile but only when he saw that his offer had a subtle effect on Sybil. "Am I allowed to ask that?"

Sybil let out a breathy laugh. "Yes, Tom, you're allowed to ask that."

"Well then?" He offered Sybil his hand and quite slowly the two fell into stride and began to dance. Everyone around them moved at a much more lively pace but Sybil and Tom existed in contrast to the orchestra's upbeat music. Just as their conversation had removed them from the party so did the way they now held onto one another, motivated by far more than the song's melody.

With her so close, Tom had no words. Sybil, on the other hand, had far too many. The ones she finally gave to him were not perfect, but they were the most honest she'd been thus far. "I'm not jealous, I'm angry. But I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at myself."

"Why would you ever be angry with yourself?"

"You know these officers have no chance with me. Regardless of their feelings or intentions there's no possibility of me entertaining their affections. You, on the other hand—"

"There's a possibility you'd return my affections?" Tom sputtered nervously.

Sybil smirked but shook her head. "Those women have a chance with you. A far better chance than I've got. They don't ask silly questions and they know things and they'd be wonderful wives and mothers, I'm sure."

"Do you truly believe you would not be just as good?"

"I don't know if it matters either way. Someone else will exist to complete those chores for me."

"Even the duty as wife?"

Sybil found Tom's joke to be quite funny, so much so that she giggled instead of berating him for referring to it as a task she and many other women had no choice in. To give him a response to such a bold statement was to answer all of the questions Tom ever had for her.

Through the silence Tom leaned in once more. "I don't think your questions are silly."

"Well they are. I'm sure of it. And that's fine, I suppose. I'd rather be corrected or questioned than allowed to say ridiculous things just because I was born into a family of wealth and privilege."

"I don't know many women who'd agree with you."

"Then perhaps you don't know many women," Sybil suggested, causing Tom to chuckle.

"Perhaps," he entertained with a nod.

"So please don't make fun of me," Sybil resolved. "I may not be like those women but I do have feelings…"

"Of course you do. It's one of the things I lo—" Tom stopped himself. He did love her; he'd told her that already, only to have her fail to return that sentiment. Somehow though, Tom held on as if she'd told him she loved him a thousand times already and was merely on the verge of revealing it again.

"I admire you too, Tom," Sybil stated with a sincere smile. All the while she did her best not to let him know it was he who warmed her enough for it to occur.

"I wasn't making fun of you. I just thought…" Even if Sybil was ready for his version of the truth, Tom doubted the rest of the room was. In knowing this, and feeling it from deep within, he paused. "If my opinion matters, I think someday you'll be a great wife and a wonderful mother, Lady Sybil."

She desperately wished to correct him, just as she had before. All she could do instead was smile. To do anything else was to give him exactly what he wanted and how tragic such a lovely thing seemed in a room so crowded.

"Am I...can I say something?" Tom inquired earnestly. Sybil nodded, now needing his words, hoping they'd remedy what she could not. "If it's any consolation, it's worth noting that it doesn't matter how a woman exists in society if I don't love her. You not loving those officers, I'm sure, has little to do with their title and more to do with who you are as a person and what you value in life."

Sybil nodded. "Exactly," she whispered.

"So to insinuate that a woman has a chance with me because she is of the same class is to disregard that I too have a choice in who I fall in love with."

"You do then? Have a choice, I mean?"

Tom smirked. "No, I hardly think I had much of a choice in falling in love the way I did." He didn't say her name — he didn't need to. "I suppose what I meant is that I have free will when it comes to who I donate my time to. Just as I'm spending my time dancing with you at this party. Not with those women." He added the last statement in soft murmur. "You're…" Tom closed his eyes. The words he'd been swallowing down all night resisted their oppression so adamantly he couldn't help but to share what it was his heart felt. For once, his mind also agreed. "You're dancing with me," he managed instead. Though it was not his originally planned speech, the words held the same weight.

Sybil grinned. "I am."

"And I know you won't admit that you're jealous. I guess I am the ridiculous one for thinking that was possible…"

"You're not," Sybil disagreed with a small shake of her head. Her eyes widened, begging that he believe her.

"But you're dancing with me. Not those officers. And I'm dancing with you, not those other women. Somewhere that has to mean something."

Sybil nearly wept at Tom's observation. Originally she had wanted to build boundaries and now she needed nothing more for them to all come crashing down. "Somewhere."

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Thanks for reading! Back to the AU world I go…

x. Elle


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